


Realisations

by rei_c



Series: Cannibalism Aside (Samn) [16]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Affection, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood Drinking, Bobby Knows, Bobby's House, Bobby's Panic Room, Extremely Underage, Implied/Referenced Torture, Incest, Intimidation, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Medical Inaccuracies, Nudity, Protective Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester is a Little Shit, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 12:00:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5625844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rei_c/pseuds/rei_c
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bobby comes face-to-face with the truth behind Sam and Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Realisations

Bobby's not sure what woke him up but something did; the hair on the back of his neck is standing straight up and he's got a chill running through him even though it's hotter than hell in his bedroom. He doesn't move, not right away. He listens, eyes still closed, and when he doesn't hear anything, he opens his eyes, reaches for the gun under his mattress and sits up. 

There's nothing in his room, nothing out of the ordinary, so he pulls on his jeans and gingerly makes his way into the hallway. 

Nothing. Nothing downstairs, either -- kitchen's empty, devil's trap by the door's untouched, salt lines are good, living room books haven't moved. Bobby stands in the middle of the hall, turns around in a circle, slowly, and then realises: he checked all the bedrooms upstairs and he never saw the boys. 

"Balls," he mutters. John's gonna kill him if anything happens to those two -- not that Bobby thinks it ever will. There's something different about those two, something _off_. They might look like kids but there's something old in Sam's eyes and Dean's, well, practically feral might be putting it lightly. Bobby never turns his back to them, that's for damn sure. Hates having them around, too, but John showed up in a panic, promised to pick them up in two days once the shtriga's dead, and Bobby couldn't say no. He wishes he had. They've gotten worse with age. More...other. 

The front door's still locked -- that's not saying much; Sam's one of the best damn lock-picks Bobby's ever seen and could get in and out of this house with laughable ease -- and the windows are all closed, so they must be in the house. Of course the only place Bobby hasn't checked yet is the basement, _of course it is_. 

He opens the door to the basement, goes cautiously down the stairs without turning the light on, eyes scanning the darkness, ears pricked to listen for anything and everything. Bobby gets to the bottom, doesn't see the boys, doesn't turn the lights on either because this, this is what woke him up. Something down here has changed. 

Bobby goes around the room, checks the shelves and tables, and it's only when he's a couple feet from the panic room that he hears voices. He creeps closer, peers in through the window. It takes a couple minutes for him to realise what he's seeing and the moment he does, he steps back, can't decide if he should stop them or kick them out or kill them. 

He can still see them, is watching as Sam tilts his head and then turns around, meets Bobby's gaze face-on. Sam raises an eyebrow, waiting for a reaction, looks dispassionately curious to see what Bobby does.

Bobby leaves. He's never going to tell anyone what he's seen, what he can guess they're doing or about to do, but he knows who they are now, he's been given a glimpse into the very heart of them -- because Sam and Dean, they're a matched set, the exact same, down deep -- and he'll never forget it. 

He goes upstairs feeling more tired than he's ever been before, the weight of the world adding to the exhaustion he's suddenly carrying on his shoulders. Those boys are gonna be great hunters, hell, they already are even though they're just kids, but they're not gonna stop at the supernatural. Something about that look in Sam's eyes says they aren't going to be happy unless they're covered in blood -- and they won't care where it comes from. He should do something, warn someone, but those kids, there's only room for two in their world, they won't care what anyone else has to say. 

No. Bobby Singer isn't stupid. He's going to keep his mouth shut and try to stay on the good side of those boys, try and guide them to the monster side of things as much as he can, give them their space and respect their difference. It's the only way he's going to survive. 

Bobby gets back in bed and stares at the ceiling. He's not going to fall back asleep anytime soon. He'll be lucky if he can sleep at all with those two under his roof.

//

Sam can't help the smile when Bobby disappears from view. He's known for a while now that Bobby's scared of them -- maybe not scared, but definitely not at ease. Dean doesn't care, finds it hilarious that two kids -- one not even a teenager yet -- can have that effect on such a seasoned hunter. Sam, though, takes it more seriously. Bobby has resources and a good reputation with the hunting community; keeping him on their side, or at least not actively against them, is essential. He's not sure how he knows that but he does, just like he knew that he could wake Bobby up, show him this, without leaving Dean's side. 

Sometimes Sam scares himself with what he can do. Thank god he has Dean. 

_Come on_ , Dean says, and he wriggles his ass. _I'm waiting, here. Where's the next one going? You haven't run out of ideas yet, have you_?

Sam grins, leans down and presses a kiss to Dean's neck before he studies the smooth lines and curves of Dean's back, ass, thighs. He draws the sharpie along the length of Dean's spine, watches with a smile as it crosses other marks: lines and x's and circles. _The spinalis_ , he says. _Gray's says there are three parts and it's impossible to separate them. I'd like to try._

Dean chuckles, says, _All right, we'll find someone for you to practice on. How you gonna do it, Sammy_?

_I'd start here_ , Sam says, and digs his fingernail into Dean's back at the top of the line he just drew. He's digging deep enough to draw blood; Sam bends down, licks up the few drops welling to the surface of Dean's skin. _And cut down. Not too deep or else I'll split the tendons too early. We'll have to peel back the skin to get at everything inside._

_We've never considered a flaying_ , Dean says, thoughtful. _I bet that's going to be messy._

Sam laughs, says, _We haven't considered a lot of things, Dean. We've only been doing this for a couple years and we've been pretty fucking distracted lately_.

_Fucking distracted by fucking_ , Dean says. _Jesus, sometimes I feel like we haven't stopped fucking since your birthday._

_Complaining_? Sam asks. 

Dean shifts under Sam and Sam knows his brother's intent as soon as Dean moves; he rises to his knees from where he'd been straddling Dean's thighs so that Dean can roll over underneath him. _Fuck, no_ , Dean murmurs, his hands settling on Sam's hips as Sam traces the sharpie marks he drew on Dean's chest an hour ago. _Why'd you want Bobby to see_? Dean asks.

_Can't hide anything from you, can I_ , Sam says, grinning wide and easy for a moment before the smile fades and something ancient and malevolent appears in the back of his eyes. _I don't know. It just -- I felt like it needed to be done. He needs to know_.

Dean reaches up with one hand, cups the curve of Sam's jaw and rubs his thumb over Sam's cheekbone. _Hey_ , he says, quiet. _So he needs to know. Better he find out this way than catching us in the act._

Sam's smile comes back as he says, _In the act of killing or the act of fucking_?

_Either,_ Dean says. _Both. But now that you've had time to study your anatomy, I think it's my turn._

_Is that what we're calling it now_ , Sam asks, as Dean sits up, cradles Sam tight and moves them. Sam's on his back now and Dean's -- Dean's everywhere, the only thing Sam can see, the only thing he can feel and smell and taste. _Dean_ , he murmurs, and pulls Dean down on top of him, lines up their hips and their dicks and licks his way into Dean's mouth. _Need you_ , he says, when they break apart to breathe. 

Dean smiles down at Sam, runs one hand through Sam's hair, and says, _I know. And I need you, too. Always._

Sam rubs his nose against Dean's, says, _Forever_ , and grins as Dean pushes up Sam's knees. _Longer than forever_.

_Forever and a day_ , Dean says. 

He slides one finger into Sam's hole, pad of his thumb playing with the rim, and Sam closes his eyes, gives into it, gives everything, again, to -- _Dean_.

Dean brushes his lips across Sam's, scissoring Sam open. _Ssh, baby boy_ , Dean whispers. _I'm here. I'm right here._

And then he is.


End file.
